Chapter 117

Chapter 117

The room was flooded with people, Ye Xuanqi's shouts fading away, followed by Song An and Chen Xuqiu bursting in, their voices faded like the tide going out, fading into the dim silence on the other side. Gradually, it turned into the drip-drip of rain—rain dripping from the eaves, dripping into the dark, quiet side hall.

In a blur of light and shadow, Ying Fusheng slowly opened his eyes, a bone-chilling, unbearable pain surging through his limbs and bones. He called out for Song An, his voice hoarse. But instead, a man dressed in dark night clothes entered, pushing open the door. Song An was dragged in, with his mouth covered by the man's personal guard. The thick, metallic smell of blood blew in with the cold wind, like a demon coming to claim his life.

Song An's struggles turned into urgent muffled sounds. The man walked over to him, crouched down, and eyed him sharply, like a falcon.

Ying Fusheng felt completely exposed. Just as he thought the man would reach out to end his suffering, the man suddenly pulled off his cloak and draped it over his shivering body. The cloak was still warm. Ying Fusheng's throat constricted, his body instinctively drawing in the warmth the cloak brought, and he heard a voice above him said.

"Do you remember who you are?" the man asked.

Do you remember who you are?

Ying Fusheng grasped a thread of clarity amid the agonizing madness. He did remember.

But he said nothing. The man got no answer, then stood up and walked outside.

His personal guards reported in fragments—

"Yes, the informants of the other princes in court have not been activated. Only the Sixth Prince's situation is special."

"The poison has reached the bone. The medical officer can do nothing about this poison. There is a female official by his side tending to him."

"Junior General, he likely won't last much longer..."

Those fragmented words from the guards poured into his ears.

"I can help you," he interrupted their discussion.

Ying Fusheng's vision swam, and the physical pain and the torment of revenge had driven him more than once to want to escape this place and bloodily cut down those who had wrought half his life's suffering. He half-leaned against the bed, though in truth he had no strength to even get down. Looking through the dim light of the side hall, his eyes were dead calm like a stagnant pool, "There's something wrong with that military ledger. I know who manipulated it, and I know which people handled it."

His mind was a blur, yet he understood that trapped deep in a desolate palace, if he didn't seize the chance, he would never find an opportunity for vengeance. He desperately reached for this knife in front of him. "If you can assign me a few men, I can give you the leads you want."

The man's eyes showed surprise. The guard beside him frowned, "Junior General, the palace people say he's already lost his mind..."

Before the words finished, the man raised a hand to quiet him, then approached Ying Fusheng and asked, "How did you know I came here to ask you about the military accounts?"

Later, Ying Fusheng learned that the man he begged that day was Qi Hanzhou.

He was the Junior General of the Qi Family Army of the Northern Borders, a close subject of the emperor, and the man who commanded the imperial inner guard.

That was the first time he and Qi Hanzhou met.

Too much time had passed—so long that Ying Fusheng had long forgotten the circumstances of his first meeting with Qi Hanzhou. But at that first meeting, he grabbed this man's hand, desperately trying to get his claws back. Back then, he only thought Qi Hanzhou sought him out for the military ledger issue. Only later did he realize the scheme to swap the heirs and steal the crown—Qi Hanzhou knew about that too.

He kept him alive, or helped him, perhaps because of who he really was—the true Crown Prince.

The Qi family was investigating something underneath the emperor's power, something that concerned the court's political factions and also the frontier soldiers far away in the Northern Borders. But to Ying Fusheng at that time, none of that mattered. He only knew what his bargaining chips were.

The hand Qi Hanzhou extended briefly pulled him out of that muddy quagmire.

He only knew that holding this hand made life in the desolate palace a little better for him and Song An—less cold in winter, and allowed this gasping, lingering life of his to continue.

Because of illness, he had barely read a few days' worth of books. Because of his withdrawn and timid nature, he had almost no one he could use. The only person by his side was the eunuch Song An, who had been with him since childhood.

Ying Fusheng learned to trade benefit for benefit. He had to have value, and only then would people help him.

So the only thing he could do was demonstrate his value. Perhaps it was the Suihongzi acting up. After Qi Hanzhou assigned him a few men, he reached out toward the court he had once dared not touch. There were many factions in the court. He passed the information about the military accounts through Qi Hanzhou's men to the Eldest Prince's faction, successfully placing the first pawn on the chessboard.

Qi Hanzhou came to see him a second time when the Eldest Prince Faction raised issues in court about the Ministry of War's accounts.

Using the Eldest Prince's hand, he had successfully stirred up trouble in the Ministry of War.

"If you want to look into the military accounts, that means you're after the Ministry of War." Ying Fusheng looked into Qi Hanzhou's eyes and told him, "The Embroidered Uniform Guard has the power to interfere. I can give you a reason."

Later, Ying Fusheng thought countless times—perhaps it was then that the Qi family truly became willing to cooperate with him.

If he were merely a prince without strategy and cowardly, he would be nothing but a discardable pawn. Sure enough, after that, Qi Hanzhou visited more frequently—whether to start the strife between the two court factions, or to find anchors for Qi Hanzhou's investigations. He tried his utmost to display his usable value, because he knew that only power could achieve his goals.

Qi Hanzhou's visits grew even more frequent.

Ying Fusheng shared his plans with him, and they worked more closely together. He wanted to bring the Qi family into his secret coalition.

But he went mad. The Suihongzi symptoms had become a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any moment. If he lost focus even for a moment, he couldn't tell what was real. He didn't know which time he suddenly woke up to find Qi Hanzhou sitting by his bed, while his wrists bore pitted scars, and the chains he used to restrain himself lay on the floor.

The first thing he did when he came to his senses was to tell him, "I'm not mad. I'm just sometimes not clear-headed."

He emphasized this to Qi Hanzhou, because no one would want to ally with a madman.

That day, Qi Hanzhou said nothing, or perhaps he said something that Ying Fusheng didn't remember.

It was only after that that the chains he used to imprison himself were replaced with cloth strips.

"You can break free from these easily," Ying Fusheng once told him.

Ying Fusheng forgot what Qi Hanzhou said back.

But later, he thought to himself: A man like Qi Hanzhou, who was in and out of the Imperial Prison daily, could bind him with anything—why worry about it?

Ying Fusheng never quite understood Qi Hanzhou, or he couldn't fathom what this Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, with his inscrutable temperament in the capital, could do. But only a man who dared to cooperate with a madman was different from ordinary people.

And so the two cooperated for seven years.

From the time Ying Fusheng was eighteen until he was twenty-five.

These fragmented memories pieced together the scattered shards of his past life. Ying Fusheng could barely recall what those shared experiences were like. Even some of the words Qi Hanzhou had said slipped from his memory. His heart was filled only with vengeance, only with overturning the court's order, only with dragging certain people down—until the end, when he was granted a cup of poisoned wine.

...

Today, just triggered by the map, Ying Fusheng suddenly realized: it seemed he couldn't remember what Qi Hanzhou had said. What else had Qi Hanzhou told him? Why couldn't he remember? Desperately wanting to recall those things, the past and present life intertwined. Among the scattered memories, he recalled the rainy night at Huguo Temple in this life, when the youthful Qi Hanzhou appeared before him. What had that sentence been?

Ying Fusheng grabbed Qi Hanzhou's wrist, wanting to ask him what it was he had said.

But the chaotic, tangled memories made his head ache as if splitting. The more he tried, the less he could remember from either life. This state filled him with panic. He couldn't even recall a single word from those many years together.

"What was it you wanted to tell me?" Ying Fusheng asked again.

Qi Hanzhou felt the warmth beneath his palm rising. Ying Fusheng looked straight at him, his eyes as if entangled in a nightmare, stubbornly demanding an answer. He saw that his eyes gradually glazed over, so he immediately chopped the back of his neck. The person before him pitched forward, unconscious. He caught the weak, limp body and swept a glance at Ye Xuanqi.

Ye Xuanqi understood and turned to leave.

Chen Xuqiu had already placed the first acupuncture needle. She focused intently, feeling the pulse, then let go: "The pulse is very chaotic. Lay him down."

Qi Hanzhou carried him over to the bed, but after a few steps, he clutched Qi Hanzhou's sleeve tightly in his sleep, refusing to let go. Even asleep, his brows stayed tightly knit. Qi Hanzhou knew that what he had most feared had happened. In Jiangnan, Ying Fusheng's frequent lapses in concentration had already hinted at this hidden trouble. The Suihongzi had long been affecting his consciousness.

Wu Lao hobbled over in a hurry with his cane. Song An quickly went to support him, asking, "How is he?"

Ying Fusheng's physical condition had actually improved a lot compared to before. Though unavoidable mental strain remained, the two master physicians had somehow propped up his easily fatigued body.

Chen Xuqiu shook his head, then looked at Qi Hanzhou: "What were you two doing just now?"

Qi Hanzhou recalled the abnormality in Ying Fusheng's behavior moments ago—the confusion in his eyes as if he couldn't distinguish anything. He recalled the possibility the two physicians had hypothesized: the inability to distinguish reality from illusion.

He calmed himself and briefly described Ying Fusheng's condition.

After listening, Chen Xuqiu exchanged a glance with Wu Lao.

Both knew that what they feared most might have come to pass.

Prince Yan's usual demeanor made it easy to overlook his underlying issues. He never made mistakes in important matters, much like the other officials in court who still didn't believe he was ill. If Wu Lao and Chen Xuqiu hadn't confirmed the anomaly in his pulse, they too would have found it hard to believe that the man who had thrown the court into such turmoil was truly suffering from a mental affliction.

"Is there any sign of the poison relapsing?" Wu Lao asked.

Chen Xuqiu replied, "No. The residual poison of Suihongzi in his body is now minimal. It's unlikely to be caused by the poison." The difficulty here lay not in the Suihongzi toxin; he believed the root of the problem was in his heart. For an ordinary person, being afflicted by Suihongzi for so long would have driven them mad. Ying Fusheng appeared not to have gone mad, but under such torment, how long could his sanity stay intact?

The two physicians dared not delay. They knew that mental afflictions were hard to cure, but they had no choice—they could only discuss a prescription. The atmosphere in the room fell silent. Ye Xuanqi and Song An had already arranged matters at the Prince Yan residence and sent someone to fetch Weng Yanqing.

The incident was sudden; Ying Fusheng hadn't been unconscious for this long since Jiangling.

Even in his coma, Ying Fusheng was restless, as if trapped in a nightmare, cold sweat beading on his forehead. Qi Hanzhou had seen him ill many times before, but only today did he feel a void in his heart. He had first seen Ying Fusheng at a palace banquet, where he saw the ambition in his eyes and the deep scheming beneath his frail appearance.

But the more he peeled back the layers, the more he found only the fervor of a young man.

Now, from when Qi Hanzhou was fourteen to his current age of twenty-one,

He had known this man for nearly seven years.

What did I say to you?

Or what do you want to hear me say...

Qi Hanzhou couldn't stop thinking.

Hurried footsteps came from outside the room. Qi Hanzhou's expression shifted slightly, and he immediately turned to look.

The person entering was Ye Xuanjiu, who had rushed over upon receiving an urgent letter from the Embroidered Uniform Guard, not expecting to find trouble at the Prince Yan residence.

"Junior General." Ye Xuanjiu walked in, hesitated briefly upon seeing the situation, but quickly approached Qi Hanzhou and lowered his voice: "Something has happened with Song Yu in Western Shu."

"Ji Wuming didn't apprehend him?" Qi Hanzhou frowned.

Ye Xuanjiu replied, "No... Song Yu has gone mad. It's the poison."

Living people are too unpredictable; only the dead and the mad can't be questioned. The Second Prince probably hadn't sent word back yet, meaning that when Song Yu detected Ji Wuming and the Embroidered Uniform Guard, he realized he had been exposed to the Eldest Prince's faction. This was a major complication. If the Second Prince's secret faction stubbornly insisted that the Eldest Prince was also involved with the Xu faction, the matter would forever hang over the Ministry of Revenue's head.

"Lord Ji contained the news immediately. The news of Song Yu's madness must not spread, as it would alert the enemy," Ye Xuanjiu said. "The matter has been reported to His Majesty, and the dispatch arrived in the capital first, but when Lord Ji returns to the capital in two days, Song Yu's madness will be impossible to hide."

Song Yu's madness was actually a clever contingency plan.

Once he went mad, it wasn't that the capital's information had leaked, but rather that the secret faction behind the scenes could sense the change through him and detect the upheaval in the capital.

On the couch, the sleeping man was still restless, as if the nightmare still tormented him.

Qi Hanzhou's gaze gradually turned cold. Now that the situation in the capital had finally stabilized under his control, he couldn't let the scheme that Ying Fusheng had exhausted himself over stop here. The variable that was Song Yu had to be stabilized.

"Order Ji Wuming to secretly escort him back to the capital," Qi Hanzhou said coldly. "As long as he's not dead, we can get him to talk."

Ye Xuanjiu was startled and replied, "Understood!"

Qi Hanzhou rose, but as he moved, he felt a faint tug behind him.

He paused in his steps, turned back, and found that his robe hem had somehow been gripped by Ying Fusheng.

Ying Fusheng was holding onto his hem. With his strength, he shouldn't have been able to grip so tightly in his unconscious state, but at this moment, the hand holding onto his robe was stubbornly trying to hold onto something.

Qi Hanzhou halted his steps toward the door.

In that instant, he realized he could not leave.